


Compromise

by CReed



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood, Cooking, M/M, Post season three, Romance, Slice of Life, cannibalism of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-25 20:12:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18170909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CReed/pseuds/CReed
Summary: Sometimes in life, one must make allowances to keep peace and harmony. Especially in relationships. When one loves someone, one wants to make that person happy. Even at the cost of their own personal comfort. One finds they will do many things they never imagined before to achieve that happiness, that harmony. When they love someone.





	Compromise

No matter the season, it was always chilly near the sea. The waves could be heard even from their home, crashing against the cliffs that dropped off a mile away from the winding, pebble path leading to their back door. From outside, Hannibal smelled the smoke before anything else. A blend of juniper and hickory, merged with the thick fragrance of the lavender that grew along the trail. He rounded the bend and, sure enough, a grayish purple plume of smoke drifted out of the chimney.

When he came into the kitchen, a new collection of scents teased him. Hannibal took a moment to enjoy, a trace of a smile lingering at the corner of his lips as he took in what his eyes had yet to find. Will left him such a wonderful gift this foggy morning. He stepped further into the room and traced light touches along the items laid out on the dark stone of the counter.

It was all ready for him to begin making. Such a thoughtful, beautiful boy he had. Hannibal dipped his finger into the fine sugar and gave it a taste. The crystals melted on his tongue, tickling his taste buds. A small jar of their homemade vanilla extract gave off a warm amber glow in the dim light. Even stoppered, he could smell the vanilla beans soaking inside, could almost feel the petals of the flowers against his nose when he had harvested them. Oranges, sharp and biting. He knew their flesh would be the deepest red if he cut into them. A bottle of fresh milk, slightly tangy and smelling faintly of the clover their cows preferred. The bar of dark chocolate proved too tempting even for him and gave a satisfying snap when he broke it in two. The heated fragrance from the bundle of cinnamon made warmth well in the pit of his stomach and he couldn't wait to taste it's gentle fire.

But what made Hannibal's mouth water, what had him licking his lips as soon as he had stepped in from outside, was what he saved for last in his exploration. The glass container was full and still so warm when he pressed the back of his fingers against the smooth surface. It sent a shiver down his spine. To think, while he spent the morning running trivial errands, Will sat patiently with a needle in his arm, giving Hannibal such a divine treat.

He knew it was Will's blood. In the four years since they left their lives in the United States behind, there had never been another opportunity to see Will drenched in blood, his own or someone else's. Not since the night of The Great Red Dragon. How majestic Will had been, bloody and torn but not broken. Never had their been another moment since to feel the hot gush of it on his hands, to taste the sweet and salty bouquet of it against his tongue. Since then, there were countless times of tasting other delicacies Will offered, but not this.

Sometimes, even now after years of analyzing his feelings, he craved Will more than any other and in all ways. Ways he had been used to slaking whenever he wished. Their pantry was full and their freezer never dwindled, but sometimes Hannibal couldn't help the want that roiled beneath his skin. To take that last bit of Will and keep it inside himself forever, what a glorious thing. So close that Will became a part of him. He had never felt such an urge before, and yet at the same time want to keep the urge at bay.

To have and to hold.

He stepped away from the sacred spread for a moment, on a different kind of hunt. It wasn't a long search. Shadows danced across the walls and floor of the dark living room. Crackling wood and the scent of juniper and hickory once more tipped him off to Will's whereabouts. Chester lifted his massive head from his paws where he lay at his master's side. Large brown eyes immediately found Hannibal's silently moving figure but the Caucasian shepard dog only huffed a greeting before returning to his nap. The loyal beast hardly left Will's side after he liberated him from his previous owner. Will did not take well the knowledge that the animal was being used for fighting and eating people who could not pay off their debts. It made Hannibal smile at the memory of just what Will did to the insufferable mob boss.

Will had not woken and Hannibal took the opportunity to look his fill. His glasses slid off his nose and onto his chest. The book he was reading lay open on the floor, spilled from his lap when he had dozed off. Hannibal lay his hand on Will's chest and watched as the gentle breaths beneath barely lifted his palm. There was a paleness to him. His usual flush was gone. His lips were a bone white and Hannibal knew he didn't eat enough after he gave his blood.

Silly, reckless boy. Hannibal lifted his hand to run his fingers through soft hair, catching gently on silky curls that fell across Will's clammy forehead. He smiled when Will only shifted in his sleep, pressing into Hannibal's touch. The stretch of his creamy neck. The sprawl of his limbs. The smell of sweat and the way the tiny droplets of it glistened in the firelight where it gathered at his clavicle. Will was a feast for the senses and when he shifted once more, Hannibal could see the small needle mark at the crook of his elbow. Never was there ever a more beautiful sight. More striking than anything Sandro Botticelli could have imagined dreaming up. He could not find words nor deeds to show how much he adored this man.

Sometimes Hannibal felt he might die from the love he felt building inside him. It was a terrible, cruel thing to be so deeply enamored of Will Graham. He leaned close only to press his forehead to Will's, to take a moment of comfort in such a simple thing as touch. Skin to skin. Hannibal wanted Will in all ways, but not just yet. He couldn't bear the thought of being without him so soon. One day. Until then, Will had given him the next best thing. To taste. To devour. To take in everything he is. Will gave without even being asked. Hannibal would honor such a gift with the reverence he deserved.

He rose in silence, forcing himself to turn away from Will and all his temptations. He had sanguinaccio dulce to prepare.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! This was just me playing around with senses. Also, I haven't uploaded anything here in a long time and thought something from Hannibal would be fun. One of the things I love about the show is the food--the silent star of the series. I like the idea that, after season three and Will has accepted some things about himself, he understands that there will always be a part of Hannibal that will want to eat him and this is his way of compromising.
> 
> I hope anyone who read this enjoyed it! If you feel like it, come say hey on my [tumblr](http://zharvolk.tumblr.com/)!


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